


"Shhhh... My pretty."

by BezKa



Category: Don't Starve (Video Game)
Genre: Angst?, Body Worship, I'm so damn embarrased, M/M, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Praise Kink, What have I done...
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-04
Updated: 2020-11-04
Packaged: 2021-03-08 17:47:28
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,028
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27390691
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BezKa/pseuds/BezKa
Summary: Maxwell always acts so sure of himself, but when he has doubts Wilson is there for him.
Relationships: Maxwell/Wilson (Don't Starve)
Comments: 3
Kudos: 44





	"Shhhh... My pretty."

**Author's Note:**

> This is how I lost my literary virginity. I blame internet.

"I can see my face reflected off the top." 

Wilson turns and sees Maxwell crouching over a pond, looking into it with a solemn face. The scientist doesn't bother with an answer and gets back to cutting reeds, as they were meant to be doing. It's going to be evening soon, and the mosquitos will chase Maxwell away from the small body of water. 

He doesn't hear Maxwell moving to start collecting vegetation from the other clump of pipey plants. Wilson moves to another spot and glances towards Max while he's at it- the man is still looking into the pond, brows creasing and face tense. Wilson stops in half a step and observes as tall man delicately brushes his hair with his long fingers and squints his eyes, glaring at the water. He moves a finger towards his eye and tugs on the lower lid, smacks his cheek, then chin. Purses his lips. Bends lower, to examine his reflection again, grabbing at the bridge of his nose and then sliding his fingers along till the tip, then travels right back to the forehead where the path of bone splits to form his brow. He moves his hands away and looks a bit longer.  
  
Wilson checks the sun and breaks the silence.

"It's going to be dark soon."

Maxwell startles out of whatever trance he was stuck in and gets up. Nods at him and apologises for the little moment he had. Wilson says it's not a problem and they move to gather a bit more before they go back to the base. 

\-------------------

They are back at their tent, put further away from the center of the camp for privacy, and that's when Maxwell decides to ask. 

"Higgsbury. Do you think I'm ugly?"

Wilson is too taken aback to respond immediately, so he just raises on his elbows to look at his partner. The man is looking back at him, eyes dark and full of some weird desperation. 

"No." He finally says. "Why would I think you're ugly?"  
  
Silence responds. Wilson ponders with a tight chest, if Maxwell let this horrible feeling get to his head? Has his regret and self hatred, hidden beneath thick layers of pride, started to gnaw even at his perception of his own appearance? Maxwell had every right to feel bad for what he did. They had talked about it many times, spent countless tearful evenings shushing eachother's sobs of regret and grief, hoping to return one day (even if Maxwell thought he didn't deserve it). But Maxwell always took care in how he presented himself, assured to be the most handsome man on the island. 

Maxwell paints a scowl on his face then turns away from him. Wilson can still see him from his supported position, and he keeps staring. Magician lays like this for a while before speaking again.  
  
"It occurred to me again today. I was always told that I'll grow into my features yet they still look so wrong."

"They don't. Trust me."

"Why would I believe that pretty faced guy is not just pitying me?"

"Because my face isn't pretty. And it's a fact that everyone sees themselves as less than pretty. Want me to show you?"

"How?" 

At this stage, Maxwell is already sitting, the covers falling from his bare chest. He's towering over Wilson again, with his tall build. Wilson sits as well. 

"Give me your hands."

He does as asked. Wilson grabs the palms and focuses on the fingertips. He closes his eyes and brings the fingers to his brows. He moves them slightly- towards his nose, and out. Again, again.  
  
"Can you feel it?"

"Feel what?" Maxwell doesn't seem to understand. 

"Focus. Here" Wilson moves the fingers to the edge of his brows "and here." He presses the fingers in the dip between his nose and brow "It's uneven. They aren't symmetrical. This one is more curved" Wilson moves the finger in small semicircle "and you can feel the bump on this one."

Maxwell can. He moves his fingers on his own now, replaces them with the pads of his thumbs and rubs. 

"What does that have to do with anything?"

"You didn't notice it before. I notice it every time I see my reflection. Among thousands other things."

Maxwell pulled his hands away and snorted loudly. 

"You know very well pal that it doesn't compare. You're talking about uneven brows while I'm thinking of... Everything."

"Then tell me." Wilson's voice rises a notch.

"...What?"  
  
"Tell me what you think is ugly." There is a challenge in his voice. Like he's about to disprove a hypothesys, shot him down with a list of evidence and perform an experiment right in front of him.

He recovers quickly. "Phah, I'll do you one better, Higgsbury. Tell me what you think is pretty."

A pause. Tense and unsure. Then Wilson is moving. 

"Lay down. I'll show you all I can. About your face, about your hands, arms, then about your chest, abdomen, pelvis-"

"Stop! I get it!"

Wilson smirks, then pushes to guide him back onto the fur roll. Maxwell complies, and Wilson drapes himself over him, face close to Maxwell's, eyes boring into his own. Then, he brings his hand up. 

He caresses his dark hair, twirling the ends around his finger. "I adore your hair. It's smooth and straight, yet allows you to style it into this perfect gentlemanly hairdo." He brushes his hand through the entire length and Maxwell's face burns slightly. "It's black with a slight shine, that shows most perfectly under the moonlight. It started graying only a bit before you came here, and it highlights the dark parts perfectly."  
  
His fingers travel to his forehead, where he dips his fingertips into the small grooves of his wrinkles, one after the other. "Your forehead is wide and clear, and so expressive I can tell you what face you make by looking just at it." It crinkles a bit under his touch at that, and he smiles and presses a kiss to it. It's colder than he would have expected, and the skin is so thin he feels like it might snap under his touch. 

He doesn't raise his lips from the skin, instead moves until they're on top of his left brow. He brings his left hand up, so he can pull away and massage both of the hairy lines under his digits. "Your brows match your hair color and are very pronounced. Objectively, a very handsome feature on a man." He swipes his fingers along them, just as he earlier guided Maxwell to do to his own. "A feature I myself like _very_ much." He murmurs, almost just to himself. 

Maxwell is still silent as Wilson reaches under his eyes, presses his thumbs on his cheekbones, and stares at the moving skin. "Your cheeks are high and pronounced as well. But they also have a dip" he presses his palm into the mentioned part "which makes you look mature and, again, something I like _a lot_."  
  
The cheeks he's examining turn a brighter shade of pink. He grins and pinches one "And their color is exquisite, really, whether you're pale, strutting elegantly across the field, or embarrassed with that lovely shade, or completely red, whenever we engage in _scandalous activities_." the color gets deeper, not as deep as it could, but Maxwell's breath quickens and his eyes are blown open.

He kisses both cheeks, on their dips, on their sharp ends, and with several stops on his way reaches his eye, which closes instinctively. He swipes his thumb delicately over it. "Your eyes may be sunken back a little, but they are absolutely gorgeous. They are completely black, like a veil hiding the person behind. But they shine so bright when you're laughing, or determined. Or _passionate_. They have bags under them, showing how many nights you skip so you can do your best." The eye is open again, staring at him with embarrassment. He smiles and sees his reflection in it, a wicked man seeing his plan coming to fruition.  
  
He moves on to the nose. He caresses it, just as he's seen Maxwell do back at the pond. He puts tip of his finger on top, where the skin crinkles every time the man furrows his brows, and travels down, to the very tip, to boop it slowly. Then he goes back up, feeling the curve of the big feature. He explores the side, then the other. "Your nose is big and curved. It's shape molds your profile, makes you stand out from others the most. It's beautiful and breathtaking." He couldn't help the pun. Maxwell seemed to forgive him just this once and even laugh. He kept looking at the nose, caressing it with his hand. "Exquisite." He swooped down and kissed the tip as well, and licked it while pulling away. Maxwell gasped. "It also changes color, especially in winter. It's absolutely lovely. And I adore it when you burrow it in my hair." He leans down and kisses it again, this time on the bridge. 

Then he reaches to the side, tilting his head until Maxwell is brought sharply from his confusion by a bite on the ear. 

"Pink and round," he whispered into it, and moved away. Then put two fingers on trembling lips. "just like these." He pulls the lower lip down, revealing sharp teeth and red gums. He can't contain himself and reaches his tongue inside, where he's met with the man's own. He shudders himself and closes his eyes, dipping down deep into the familiar space. They kiss until they're out of breath, and Wilson pulls back with a gasp. "Again, _breathtaking_."

He grins still catching his breath, and watches as Maxwell struggles to respond, the big lips now glistening and parted invitingly. "Big and beautiful, the way they move when you speak, when you bite them, when you suck on a-" a sharp jerk tells him to stop, along with Maxwell's face. "-spoon. Truly enchanting." Wilson's grin might be evil, but it's worth it to see the man so embarrassed. The Great Maxwell, who loves being in center of attention, for once can't seem to deal with being the only person under Wilson's undivided focus. It's endearing in such weird, empowering way.   
  
Wilson is getting distracted with everything that's happening, Maxwell's soft jerks, panting, his own pressing need and the glances Max is throwing at his lips. But he pushes on. 

He reaches down to his face again, and Maxwell tries to guide his lips, but Wilson lands them where he wanted, on his chin, and travels slowly along it, up, towards the ear, _the one he hasn't bitten yet_ , and fixes this tragic mistake. Maxwell is grabbing at his back now, as Wilson is soothing the poor lobe, then starts whispering "Your jaw is big and all perfect angles. Sharp enough to stun, just wide to impress." 

He moves away and can't help but squirm a bit in his seat, which _is_ Maxwell's lap, and he feels the bulge press on him from behind. He's panting now as well, Maxwell sporting a big blush and clenching his teeth. Wilson twitches again, then looks at Maxwell's face- he meant one more thing, then he can let them relieve the tension. He reaches down yet again, and cradles Maxwell's head, then with shaky lips kisses each single wrinkle he can find on the man's face, whispering about _age, survival, proof, braveness_. Maxwell seems to drink all his words up, tensing and moving with each word, until a tiny whine escapes his lips.  
  
"Hmm? What is it?" Wilson will allow himself to be cruel today. He rarely gets so much control over the older man.

"Higgsbury- are you finished yet?-" the question is strained and Max is pushing up to brush against Wilson's clothed behind. 

"I don't know, pal." Wilson hums, "Are you sure you don't want to hear more?"

A whimper. Max moves his hands and grabs at his bottom. Wilson jerks slightly at the gesture, as the magician is guiding him to sit back. 

"You're beautiful Max. You know it, right?" Maxwell mindlessly shakes his head, too focused on what he isn't receiving, and Wilson moves away a bit. 

"I suppose you didn't get the message." He pulls away and Maxwell tries to grab him- then growls with frustration when Wilson slips away. 

"Higgsbury!- What are you-"

The short man is maneuvering the cover, then grabs at the bottom of Maxwell's pants and slides them off in one swift movement. He folds them on pure muscle memory and settles between the magician's legs, his length straining and aching for attention. It won't receive any yet. Maxwell sits up, supported on his hands and glares down at him, brows furrowed and lips in a snarl. That's exactly what Wilson needs when he grabs his chest and starts fondling it. Maxwell holds back some sort of noise and breathes harshly while Wilson is playing around, trailing fingers across the gaps between his ribs, circles around his nipples and comments. "Your chest is beautiful. It's wide and pale, the tiny sprinkle of hair, your pink buds." He covers one with his mouth and Max brings one hand around his shoulders. He sucks it and bites gently, feeling breath flutter in the man's lungs. He slowly moves to the other one, and drags his nails on magician's back, which brings him a deep shudder as a reward. 

He moves up to the shoulder, sucks on the collarbone, then grabs the hand resting on him. He moves his palm over the man's arm, forearm, to the hand which he entangles fingers with. "They're black, shadow influenced long time ago. And yet they're careful and they touch softly, unless they're fighting, where they curl gracefully, prepared to attack, either with bare claws or holding a weapon." He peppers it with kisses, traveling back up, then untangles his hand from the tight grip and pulls two of the long fingers into his mouth and _sucks_.  
  
Maxwell's looking at him darkly, drinking in the sight, and ponders how can he be beautiful while having this man in front of him. Then he remembers, as he's looking into his eyes again, and focuses on the brows he was touching. They're uneven. Just like Higgsbury said, one of them is just a bit more sharper than the other. He stares for a bit, then moves his sight to Wilson's nose, tiny bit crooked to the right. Somehow, that doesn't make him any less beautiful, and maybe-

And then he looks at the lips around his fingers and loses his train of thought. He moves them slightly, just to surprise the scientist, and it works, Wilson letting out a shuddery breath, and continuing on his task. Maxwell can't help but think that now his hand definitely looks pretty. 

Wilson finally let's his digits free and licks his lips. Maxwell wants to do that for him.

But before he can try, Wilson is dipping down to kiss his stomach. He nuzzles it, rubs the sharp hip bones, and bites below his bellybutton. Maxwell jerks at that, and Wilson is wetly reminded of the main event that slaps against his chest.   
  
A low sound, a hand in his hair.

"Wilson- I get it already- please-"

"Get what?"

"I'm… I'm not ugly. I don't think I am, it just came over me today and- please Wilson, just-" he thrusts into the empty air. 

Wilson backs off and hums. 

"I suppose that's good enough for now. Let's fix you up, hun."

He takes off his own trousers, finally, _finally_ freeing his own weeping arousal. He grabs Maxwell's legs and shimmies between them, as close as he can. Maxwell hooks his legs behind him and captures him between his arms, then forces their mouths aggressively together. Wilson is pliant at first, then picks up the challenge when Max bites his lip, and they fight for dominance for a while. When Maxwell is focused on wrestling with his tongue, he grabs both their lengths and squeezes them. They both gasp, and Maxwell lets go with one hand to reach for the pouch they keep at their tent, and retrieves a small jar of lube of their own making. 

Wilson takes over and unscrews it, then dips his fingers in. Smearing it around his hand, he puts the jar away. Then grabs Maxwell and rubs him thoroughly to spread the substance everywhere it needs to be. Maxwell doesn't hold back his hisses of approval and digs his claws into Wilson's back. He does rubs his legs when Wilson lets go to tend to his own member, but it's not even a minute before he grabs them both and jerks them harshly.  
  
Maxwell dropped his head on Wilson's shoulder, and the scientist seized the occasion to bite into his neck. They're both moving in sync, Wilson up while Max goes down, and Wilson's hand is squeezing them in the middle. 

They filled the tent with sounds of their gasps and smacks of their girths thrusting against each other and Wilson just couldn't stop himself and grabbed at them with the second hand, forcing the heads to bump. They both hissed harshly and sped up, this time moving at the same time to hit Wilson's palm. 

Maxwell started grunting and Wilson knew to get ready. He forced himself to move quicker, and he twisted both his hands at the same time. Maxwell came with a gasp and his stomach fluttered with shudders as he desperately rode his orgasm out. Wilson could feel magician's seed trailing down and his dick pulsing with each wave and he was pushed over the edge as well. He almost crumbled, but Maxwell held him tight while coming down from his high, still thrusting his oversensitive sex. When fog finally cleared from Wilson's eyes, Maxwell slowly leaned back to look at him for exactly two seconds before he followed and they collided into a kiss, tired and messy. 

They must be quite a sight, two men that consider themselves nothing above average, to look so beautiful together.

**Author's Note:**

> Would you believe some people think that Maxwell is ugly??? Or that his nose or chin is too big??? This was written as a "fuck you" to those people and then these two just slipped from my control and started bonking and I was too shocked to stop them. One sitting, four hours, all so they can bonk. 
> 
> Also, the title is Maxwell's quote. A digital cookie to those who know it without checking the wiki, a digital lolipop to those who checked. 
> 
> I have lost all my dignity, so expect more porn at some point...
> 
> Also, I heard about something called nutty-November? Well, we don't do that here.


End file.
